


Temperate Women

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Family, Female Characters, Future, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Parenthood, Power Play, Prophecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small group, including Aslaug and her sons, arrives in Hedeway, having fled Kattegat. Lagertha feels how the balance of power has shifted, but she sees what Aslaug does too – an opportunity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temperate Women

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I'm pretty sure if Lagertha and Aslaug teamed up, they'd conquer the world. And it would be awesome.
> 
> Set after episode 2x03 'Treachery', goes pretty AU from there.

 

 

There was a tremendous murmur from outside of the longhouse. Lagertha lifted her chin, curious at the noise. There was a bruise on her neck but she did not allow herself to move stiffly. The men that surrounded her husband would not see her in pain. She would stare through them, she would secure her son's future. Why did her actions not feel like enough though?

 

 

 

The murmuring grew louder, the longhouse doors admitting many people until the crowd broke open and Lagertha's eyes widened, her heart a rapid beat in her chest. There was Siggy, and Aslaug, her attendants, and her son...her _sons._ Pain pressed against Lagertha's heart but she refused to allow it to consume her. She caught sight of Björn, a hard scowl on his face. She could not comfort him now, no matter how much she wished to; she had to focus on the people before her, her past made flesh. Siggy stared at Lagertha, her large eyes full of wordless worry and stories. Something had happened, something had driven them here.

 

 

 

Erik, the man who'd brought them forward, announced. “They claim to know the lady Lagertha.”

 

 

 

Sigvard turned to her, his hand firm around her wrist as it had been for many hours, a reminder of where she stood here. “Do you know them?”

 

 

 

It was a question for the ages. Aslaug cradled a babe in her arms, her other two sons silent and clutching her skirts. But she looked mildly towards Lagertha, not imploring but expectant, as though she knew Lagertha's thoughts. They were not difficult thoughts to discern. Aslaug knew where the balance of power lay here, yet she did not seem to find humbling herself a terrible weight to bear. She held Lagertha's gaze, her own ready and resolute.

 

 

 

For a moment, Lagertha relished it, the princess reduced to standing apparently needful before her, hoping that Lagertha would show mercy. Aslaug's pride and future lay in Lagertha's hands, she could tell Sigvard that this woman should be in chains, or that she was valuable and should be married quickly to one of the village men. She could ensure that Aslaug felt Lagetha's humiliation and pain.

 

 

 

But then Aslaug shifted the babe in her arms and the moment was broken. Lagertha refocused. Aslaug's sons were Ragnar's sons, they were Björn's brothers. That was why Aslaug looked at her so, a mother asking for her children’s sake. Lagertha looked at the boys and saw Ragnar in their faces, in the way that they stood. Her heart hurt again, but she had a son of Ragnar also. And for the first time since arriving here, it felt as though she had something of substance to wield.

 

 

 

She smiled, just a little. A wider expression would have told Sigvard too much. “They are from Kattegat.”

 

 

 

“Your home before us,” Sigvard nodded. “So why do they come here now also?”

 

 

 

Lagertha shrugged as easily as she could, tension buried deep in her bones. She wanted to know the reason for their presence as well, but not in front of Sigvard where every word had to be carefully crafted. She cast a glance towards the silent guests.

 

 

 

“Siggy?”

 

 

 

Siggy looked quickly towards Aslaug who nodded and then stepped forward to speak. The way she trembled and glanced downward could have been a veil to hide behind, a lie for Sigvard's sake. Or it might have been part of the truth.

 

 

 

“Jarl Borg attacked Kattegat. Most of our able men raid in the West, we had little chance. My husband made sure we escaped, but he was hurt on our journey.”

 

 

 

Rollo. Was he here? Lagertha raised an eyebrow and Siggy barely nodded, but it was enough. Erik spoke up then. “A man was with them, his wounds are great but he should recover.”

 

 

 

Lagertha's smile increased a fraction and she turned to a husband awaiting explanation and correct attention, his tightening fingers betraying his impatience. Lagertha did not flinch. “Her husband is uncle to Björn.”

 

 

 

Sigvard weighed her words, seeing what memories lay in the spaces between them. “Your first husband's brother. The betrayer.”

 

 

 

Lagertha nodded, only it seemed that Rollo had chosen differently this time. However temporary that decision, it was a good foothold. “Jarl Ragnar must have kept him from raiding as punishment.”

 

 

 

“A wound indeed to a man with blood in his heart,” Sigvard looked now towards his guests. “No more of you survived?”

 

 

 

Siggy shook her head, grief clear in her posture. “Kattegat stood to give us passage. It is Jarl Borg's now.”

 

 

 

Lagertha's free hand clenched slightly, Jarl Borg who had once so easily recruited Rollo and had stood against Ragnar. Now he chose the easily cruel victory. Lagertha would have many prayers to say out of her husband's sight.

 

 

 

She looked to Sigvard, making her eyes soft in a hard tense face, a mask he had to believe. “They will work for their place here, until Rollo is well enough for them to leave.”

 

 

 

It was unlikely he was their only protection though. Lagertha could see how Aslaug's handmaidens moved, how watchful their eyes were, how certain strappings indicated secreted blades. They were shieldmaidens under quiet subservient faces. Good.

 

 

 

Sigvard looked at her, his gaze hard and piercing. Lagertha held it. She would have this and she would give Björn family, no matter the pain in her heart.

 

 

 

Sigvard raised his voice towards the visitors. “Jarl Borg will not bring his fight here?”

 

 

 

Siggy shook her head quickly, her expression full of what she had seen. “He caused Jarl Ragnar's family to flee and claimed his lands. He will stand there to welcome Jarl Ragnar home.”

 

 

 

Sigvard nodded, understanding Jarl Borg's tactics. “They work, they stay, for now.”

 

 

 

Lagertha allowed herself to smile a little more warmly than before and squeezed the hand that held hers in thanks. She turned her expression towards Siggy, Aslaug and the others. She got to her feet and walked close to press a warm hand to Siggy's shoulder, Siggy quickly rested her own fingers over Lagertha's, her eyes grateful and glad. It would have to be enough for now.

 

 

 

“What are you called?” Sigvard asked, his gaze turning to Aslaug, so silent until now.

 

 

 

Her smile was pleasant and layered, a barrier to who she truly was. “Aslaug.”

 

 

 

Aslaug was not a princess here, not when such a title could bring great interest and greedy hearts. Lagertha didn't speak against her and Aslaug bowed her head as though in gratitude to Sigvard’s kindness, but Lagertha knew that it was truly in response to her silence. It made something prickle over her skin so she turned swiftly to Björn, who looked as angry as his father ever had.

 

 

 

“Björn.”

 

 

 

Björn looked mutinous but recognised the look in her eyes as one not to be questioned yet. So he strode across the hall, his eyes flashing with hatred towards Aslaug. Lagertha touched his side, a gesture that meant many things, before turning to Aslaug’s sons, a bitter taste in her mouth. She swallowed it, under the eyes of many, and spoke.

 

 

 

“What are their names?”

 

 

 

Aslaug’s smile was more real now, showing a warmth that Lagertha had not seen her display before. “Ubbe and Hvitserk.”

 

 

 

She indicated the two boys at her feet before jostling the child in her arms. “And Sigurd Snake-in-the Eye, for my father.”

 

 

 

Lagertha bent over the child and saw the sudden colour of his right eye, the serpent’s visage in it. Taken aback, she glanced up at Aslaug who looked back, proud and content. When she had named the child for her father, she had spoken truly.

 

 

 

Björn was a stiff form next to her. Aslaug smiled at him, the expression rebuilt as something knowing and sure. Lagertha’s skin continued to prickle as Aslaug spoke.

 

 

 

“You are becoming the image of your father, he will be pleased and proud.”

 

 

 

Björn was not placated by such words, choosing to spit, hostile and furious, a hand to his sword. “You should be thrown beyond these walls…”

 

 

 

“You dishonour my guests, boy,” Sigvard cut through Björn’s dangerous speech, his power absolute and easily wielded in the longhouse.

 

 

 

Lagertha turned with a careful expression towards her husband. “I will see to him and make sure they are warmed and fed.”

 

 

 

“Thank you, sister.”

 

 

 

Aslaug’s words made Lagertha stiffen, an ugly feeling rising at the reminder of Ragnar’s wish to have two wives, a patchwork family that provided everything he desired but brought only humiliation and pain to Lagertha. A heartbeat later, she recognised Aslaug’s tactic. She was tying herself to the jarl’s wife; her fate could not be taken from her without Sigvard, and Lagertha, speaking on it first.

 

 

 

Sigvard nodded. Lagertha had volunteered for duties that he believed she should solely immerse herself in. She grasped Björn’s arm as she led the way out of the longhouse, seeming to drag him off for a scolding. That would please Sigvard, he desired Björn to be more receptive and respectful to authority and in the presence of guests.

 

 

 

In the empty yard beyond the longhouse, Björn looked furious. “They cannot stay here, mother. They are…”

 

 

 

“They are family, Björn. What have your brothers done but enter this world?”

 

 

 

She touched his face gently; letting him see the deep pain she carried, letting him see that she understood his fury and his thirst for revenge and recompense. She willed him to understand, to see what she did.

 

 

 

“The gods sent them here, out of all lands beyond Kattegat. Visit your uncle, watch over him and learn what you can.”

 

 

 

Björn looked mutinous but glad at the chance to be away from Aslaug and glad at the mention of Rollo. He set off quickly. Lagertha took a breath that shook her bones and then straightened; her son had his uncle back. Perhaps a Rollo who had chosen a better path once could persuade Björn to do so also.

 

 

 

She quickly herded the remaining group into a nearby hut, its owner had died only a few days before and no one had claimed it yet. Aslaug’s handmaidens began doing what they could to make the surroundings comfortable for their lady. Aslaug did not look too uncomfortable amongst such scarcity. Siggy, Siggy looked tremulous, her eyes darted quickly across the landscape, there was great tension and worry in her frame. She was strong, but she had lost so much already, even before this.

 

 

 

Lagertha called Siggy’s name softly, then approached her, her hand warm on Siggy’s arm. The gesture finally caught Siggy’s attention, her gaze flickering quickly to Lagertha’s face. Lagertha smiled softly.

 

 

 

“It is good to see you again.”

 

 

 

Siggy did not speak, but the quiet sound she made was distressed and she hugged Lagertha close. Lagertha held her, her gaze locked with Aslaug’s. Both of them were unmoved and something passed between them in that moment. They had sons, they had to be strong, whether they walked through fire or not.

 

 

 

When Lagertha and Siggy parted, Lagertha stroked Siggy’s cheek. “He will live, Siggy.”

 

 

 

Siggy almost smiled. “The gods brought us here, they brought us to you. That will keep us warm enough for now.”

 

 

 

She proceeded to bustle about with the children, talking to them softly. Did she see her own dead sons in Aslaug’s living ones? She needed distraction and they provided it, apparently happy with her presence. Aslaug was the room’s stillpoint, Sigurd still in her arms. Lagertha could not ignore them, no matter how much she wished to.

 

 

 

She approached the princess and looked at her son, alive and healthy. Everything Ragnar wanted. He had sons in abundance now, the gods had blessed him. Lagertha briefly touched Sigurd’s chubby arm, raising her own smile unbidden. It was an expression she rarely wore now.

 

 

 

“You are kind, to allow us this,” Aslaug told her quietly.

 

 

 

The bitter taste was in Lagertha’s mouth once more, she swallowed again. “They are family to Björn, and they are blameless.”

 

 

 

The silent accusation – _you are not_ – lay heavy and leaden between them. Aslaug did not deny it, or become cold and hard against such words. She lowered her gaze to her son, her ultimate victory.

 

 

 

“Your husband is a strong man, respected here.”

 

 

 

It wasn’t quite a question, but Lagertha nodded. “He has promised Björn a future.”

 

 

 

Aslaug nodded, unsurprised by Lagertha’s brittle words, or the implication of her rich clothing and bruised wrist. The princess was like water, frustrating, ungraspable, harmless until you were suddenly knocked over in her wake, unaware she had been moving against you in the first place. She could not cook or brandish a sword, but she expertly wielded her own power.

 

 

 

“Björn will achieve great things.”

 

 

 

Lagertha looked at Aslaug, a frown creasing her brow. Her skin was prickling again, more strongly than before. “How do you know this?”

 

 

 

Aslaug’s expression was one of peace and assurance. “I prophesied that my son would bear the beast my father vanquished in his eye.”

 

 

 

The reason for Lagertha’s unnervement around Aslaug took on a new shade. Lagertha’s frown increased. Aslaug saw things and spoke prophecy. Such a belief brought forth many questions, had she seen Ragnar before he had reached her land? Had she known that she would become pregnant so soon after lying with him? Had she come to Kattegat because she had foreseen the other sons that waited to be born? Had she come to Hedeby because she had seen Lagertha there?

 

 

 

Had she truly seen Björn's future?

 

 

 

Sigurd blinked up at Lagertha, his right eye green and striking, as striking as his father’s blue gaze. Aslaug’s smile was warm again, taking delight in her son. She had closely embraced motherhood; it was more solid than any other aspect of her.

 

 

 

“Ragnar will return,” Aslaug said, quiet and firm. “And he will need somewhere to rest, somewhere for his men.”

 

 

 

It was a suggestion, a testing of ground, different from the one she had been part of when Ragnar had proposed forming a new family. In the silence, Aslaug looked pointedly at the bruise on Lagertha’s neck; Lagertha did not cover it up.

 

 

 

Aslaug's words appeared leisurely, but were as pointed as her glance had been. “Do you _live_ here, Lagertha?”

 

 

 

Lagertha sharpened. “Another prophecy?”

 

 

 

“No,” Aslaug left her response hanging in the air as she deftly rearranged the blanket that Sigurd was wrapped in. “Ragnar will want to regain Kattegat. He will continue to yearn for your presence also.”

 

 

 

She did not sound jealous or angry at the notion, only so easily sure of it. Lagertha shook her head, anger and pain making her teeth clench. “Then he is a greedy fool.”

 

 

 

Aslaug sounded amused. “He is, and I have seen many great and terrible things for him. He always comes for his sons.”

 

 

 

Aslaug hummed softly as Sigurd fussed, turning her face towards Lagertha, matter-of-fact and decided. “But _we_ can ensure their futures.”

 

 

 

The suggestion had become a declaration, a clear offer. It was a thought that chimed with what had sparked inside of Lagertha when she had seen Siggy and Aslaug in Sigvard's longhouse, never hers, always his. For there was power here in this little exiled group, something to build upon, something that would ensure Björn's future without Sigvard's intemperance. If Rollo truly was turned in a favourable direction, he would be of use here too. Something could begin.

 

 

 

For all her sculpted words, fine bearing, and desirable fertility, Aslaug knew that she needed a warrior's strength and resolve.

 

 

 

But Lagertha still measured Aslaug with her gaze. He doubted Aslaug had decided this course without a price. Lagertha would not see her son sacrificed for Aslaug's, Björn had lost enough and so had Lagertha. She kept a hand to her belt, to the knife displayed there.

 

 

 

“What do you ask for this?”

 

 

 

Aslaug considered her, her smile so blank and knowing. It made Lagertha's skin itch, but Aslaug's expression swiftly became conspiratorial, drawing Lagertha in, sharing her babe's warmth and something more.

 

 

 

“I ask only for your hands, your loyalty to Ragnar's sons.”

 

 

 

Lagertha narrowed her eyes slightly. “As you will be loyal to _all_ of them?”

 

 

 

Aslaug smiled, as though Lagertha had caught a snake by its tail. “Of course. He will do _great_ things, they all will. I will see them to it.”

 

 

 

There was a soft noise from Siggy but Lagertha's gaze remained locked with Aslaug's. There was something easing in her throat, and further down a banked fire was sparking. She had suffered the misery that the seer had foretold, she would gladly suffer more for her son's sake but he had suffered enough of it. This though, the singing of blood in her veins, the battle calling, this would see them both free, in one form or another.

 

 

 

For she sensed and knew well the fire behind Aslaug's placid expression, the fire of a mother prepared to do all for her children. That was real and solid, Lagertha could trust that. She looked at Aslaug's sons, at Ragnar's spirit and blood in them so clear and present. For them and Björn to survive, that was a calling from the gods, from her own bloody insides. Through her pain, Lagertha could see that.

 

 

 

She would not think of Ragnar, of what he faced now, of what would happen if – when – he returned. That did not matter now and thinking on such things would only bring a tide of pain, she needed clear unbound thoughts.

 

 

 

She looked towards Aslaug, at fire and sight reforged, and nodded, a quick meaningful jerk. Aslaug's smile was one to share, a sliver of snakeskin, a glimpse perhaps of something close to her true self beneath the clever manners that she so often wore instead.

 

 

 

A truth lay silent between them, one that they both saw and knew the power of. Björn, Aslaug's boys, they were Ragnar's sons, but Lagertha and Aslaug were their mothers.

 

 

 

Lagertha was hard-bodied and bloodied while Aslaug was lush and fertile. But they were both remorseless and they both loved their sons. It would be enough, enough to give them power and foundation, enough to push their sons to a bright strong firmament.

 

 

 

“Thank you, sister.”

 

 

 

Aslaug was still wearing that rare smile, the one that spoke of her truer self. Her words were soft and deliberate, it was her way, Lagertha remembered, to persuade others to believe her and accept her meaning. But perhaps she believed her own words this time, in a kinship, a family even. That would be rare indeed. She had not suggested friendship, but she continued to offer this. What had she foreseen?

 

 

 

Perhaps one day Lagertha would believe in those words too, as she believed in the fire. Perhaps. For now, the fire was enough.

 

 

 

_-the end_


End file.
